


Making it Rain

by orbythesea



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-08
Updated: 2007-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-18 21:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbythesea/pseuds/orbythesea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can make it rain."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making it Rain

"I can make it rain," he tells her, and she doesn't believe it for a second. "I can!"

It's not the first time he's been wrong, but after five minutes, a few muttered curses, and no rain, her disappointment is visible. She's always felt like a child around him, expecting the impossible.

"Come on," he says, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the TARDIS. "Just the wrong sort of cloud formation, I'll make it rain yet."

The TARDIS whirs and jolts into motion, and she laughs as she tumbles back into one of the railings, clinging to it to keep herself from being flung across the console. "I'm not the only one showing my age," she says, and he glares at her as the TARDIS stills.

"Go on then," he says, glare giving way to a grin as big as his ears. "See the rain, Sarah."

She flings open the doors and blinks several times, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

They're on a hill, a hundred yards from Harry's old flat, and she smiles, curiously. "Doctor, why are we--"

He ignores her, fiddling with the sonic screwdriver, testing this and that before pointing it at the TARDIS. He presses a button, and from the top of the TARDIS, a light shoots skyward. "Sarah Jane Smith," he says. "I can make it rain."

Lightening crackles, nearly hitting the TARDIS and they both jump. "That wasn't s'posed to happen," he admits as the sky opens up.

She laughs, staring up into the rain until he nudges her head left, back towards Harry's old flat.

"What are you doing-- Sarah, you'll catch your death of-- Sarah, come back inside this--" It's Harry, young and flustered and when she squints, she can see a young woman-- no, a young _Sarah_ , spinning in circles. Thirty years later, and she can almost feel that old nightshirt sticking to her skin.

"You brought me--" she looks up, eyes wide.

"We probably shouldn't be here," he says. "'S'dangerous, having both sets of you in the same place at the same time, makes a weak spot in the fabric of--"

"You did that," she says, awed. "This is-- This is that night-- you brought me back to that night." She grins. "You made it rain, Doctor."

He laughs, loud and full, like a man who hasn't laughed in a century. "Told you."

A hundred yards away, her younger self reaches out a hand to Harry, pulling him into her odd little dance. They're not yelling anymore, and their words don't carry up the hill, but she can still remember how Harry's voice turned from concerned to joyful, and when they finally head back inside, a lump forms in her throat and her tears mix with the rain water.

She knows this night, knows it well. She'd been back a month and it wasn't until a sharp, electric _crack_ woke her that she realized how much she'd missed the rain. Ever the gentleman, Harry was asleep on the couch and she woke him in her mad dash to feel the rain against her skin.

This is as much as she'd told The Doctor.

She knows what happens next for her younger self, of course. Harry will shove her, still clothed, into a hot shower. He'll fix a pot of tea and they will laugh and she will cry and later, she'll let him peel the old flannel bathrobe down her arms. "All in the name of staying warm," she'll whisper when he hesitates, asks her if she really wants to do this.

"We should go," she whispers transfixed by the light now shining through one of the second floor windows.

He nods, pulling her back into the TARDIS and setting coordinates. Minutes later in her own yard-- in her own _time_ \-- the sun beats down. When he doesn't follow her out of the TARDIS, she turns to face him, water dripping off his leather jacket as he leans in the door jam.

"This is it, isn't it?" she asks. "You're leaving again."

He nods, silently. "'S'not you, Sarah. It's daft old me, can't quite stand the thought of watching as--"

"Thank you," she interrupts. "Thank you for the rain."


End file.
